


We Dream Of Moments Like These

by tomioneer



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Based on Real Events, Eren and Jean will love-hate each other in every universe, Flirty Eren, I am sure this is not accurate to how people are rescued from elevators, M/M, first responders AU, link below, tsundere jean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 06:59:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7608295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomioneer/pseuds/tomioneer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detective Jean Kirschtein and his team get stuck in an elevator. Thank god the local fire department is made of mature, focused, professional--</p>
<p>Oh, hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Dream Of Moments Like These

**Author's Note:**

  * For [andreaphobia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/andreaphobia/gifts).



Largely--alright, entirely--inspired by the event described [here](http://www.cnn.com/2016/04/28/us/kansas-city-missouri-police-stuck-elevator-irpt/), and Andreaphobia's general request to the universe that someone write it into fic. Given our mutual enjoyment of Jean and Eren at odds, I thought this a decent fit. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

 

Jean says, “No.”

Jean says, “Fuck no.”

Jean says, “Anyone but you.”

“Kirschtein,” Captain Ackerman cuts in before he can continue, voice tense after twenty minutes in this godforsaken metal deathtrap. “Suck it up.”

Crouching down to peer through the gap between the elevator roof and the floor, Lieutenant Eren Jeager grins. It’s a smug, shit-eating look, all ego and teeth and echoed by the men and woman standing behind him. “You should listen to your boss, Detective, or I might leave you in there.”

While Jean glares, Eren twists around, gives a double-thumbs up, and Braun takes a picture. A fucking  _ picture _ . Connie complains; Sasha laughs; Jeans resigns himself to a lifetime of mockery.

With a mighty groan he slinks away to lean against the far wall of the elevator, then slumps to his haunches in abject shame. The voices and instructions of the emergency responders--what seems like the entirely of the local fire department, and of course this happens on Eren’s shift,  _ of fucking course  _ it does--wash over him. He knows them all, is familiar with their perceived superiority, their frat-bros overconfidence and relentless self-aggrandizing. He knows very well this will be brought up over drinks and meals for the rest of his career, because he socializes with most of them, however reluctantly.

That’s what happens when both your superior officers  _ and _ rookie partner have close ties to people in the firehouse, much as he hates it. Not to mention the number of calls they end up working together on (just enough to know that Eren Jeager isn’t worth licking the shit from Jean’s shoes when he’s not actively saving lives).

It’s an empty threat, of course. They firefighters are too proud, too thoughtlessly noble to  _ leave _ anyone in danger. Jean’s team is pulled out one by one, starting with Christa being by her girlfriend and the Captain by Eren, then Sasha and Connie and so on. The Sergeant waits just long enough to give Jean a familiar hard look.  _ Behave _ , that cold glare says, then she reaches up for her brother’s hands and slides through the opening, pantsuit entirely unwrinkled. Still sulking in the back, Jean doesn’t notice it’s his turn, that he’s the last one, until there’s a sigh and impatient thud on the roof.

For one second he thinks the box is going to plummet, but it’s just Reiner being an asshole. He walks away after having his laugh, leaving Eren. Eren, staring at Jean with wide eyes, guileless and too amused by half. “You gonna stay in there all day,  _ Detective _ ? Or would you prefer to swoon into my arms?”

“Fuck off,” he grumbles, and climbs to his feet to the tune of Eren’s laughter. 

“Sure you don’t need me to come in there and save you, Jean-boy?”

“Go. The fuck. To hell,” he bites out, pins and needles dancing along his legs. Taking a breath, he crosses the floor and stares, hands on his hips, at the dumbass currently waggling the fingers of the hand offered in Jean’s direction. 

“But I wouldn’t mind sweeping you off your feet, Detective. You look like you could use a break.”

“The last thing you’re going to be doing,” he grouches as he shuffles up to the wall, mindful of the gap, “is sweeping  _ anyone  _ off their feet.” He’s confident when he says it, pushing Eren’s effortlessly cool-under-fire attitude and thoughtless heroics aside. Fact is, Eren’s swept a hundred people off their feet and out of danger. He makes his living doing exactly that, defying the odds and playing rescue. Buildings have fallen on Eren before, and he’s still come out relatively unscathed and all the more furiously driven to save and help people, now that he knew how it felt to be trapped and burned firsthand.

“Uh- _ huh _ ,” is all the response he gets, skeptical and unimpressed by his admittedly lacking witticism. He stretches down, wraps his hands around Jean’s reluctantly raised arms, and pulls.

He’s stronger than Jean thought--not to say Jean spends a lot of time thinking about Eren Jeager’s physical capabilities or fitness or well-being or anything like that, it’s just become very clear his injuries and two-month medical leave last year did nothing to diminish any of the above, that’s all, and Jean can’t help but respect that, he’s been injured in the line of duty, he’s--

He’s been there. And here he is now, knees on the floor, hands clasped on Eren’s arms, facing one another with inches between them, because, well. Damned if Eren didn’t sweep him right the hell off his feet  _ and _ into his arms, as promised.

Fuck.


End file.
